


Kissing Lessons

by chamekke



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Humour, M/M, Not as innocent as he looks, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-30
Updated: 2010-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:22:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamekke/pseuds/chamekke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The trouble with French kissing is, you can't practice with a pillow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kissing Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://moonclaw.livejournal.com/profile)[**moonclaw**](http://moonclaw.livejournal.com/), as part of the [Armed Bastards Exchange 2010](http://community.livejournal.com/martianholiday/35037.html) on [](http://community.livejournal.com/martianholiday)[**martianholiday**](http://community.livejournal.com/martianholiday/), using her prompt "Ray and Chris, first time or close to the first time, either in the office when they're alone one night, or after a few rounds at the pub." Special thanks to [](http://basaltgrrl.livejournal.com/profile)[**basaltgrrl**](http://basaltgrrl.livejournal.com/) for illustrating this story with her gorgeous fanart [Your Moustache Tickles!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/193620)

"She said that kissing me was like..." Chris began, then hesitated.

Ray refilled the younger man's glass. "Go on," he said, slurring slightly.

Chris's cheeks pinked. It was close to midnight, and he and Ray were supposed to be typing up their backlog of casework, but Ray had produced a rather nice bottle of single malt and somehow they'd become distracted.

Now Chris scanned the deserted squad room and its tawdry holiday decorations as though expecting Father Christmas to appear. He reached across and gulped a quarter of his Scotch, then banged the glass down and burped emphatically.

Ray raised an encouraging eyebrow.

"She said," Chris resumed, "that it was like — like having a half-dead guppy flopping about in her mouth. A guppy!"

For one terrifying moment, Ray thought the lad was going to cry. Then Chris made a face and took another swallow from his glass. Ray frowned.

"'M sure it weren't all that bad," he said. Chris's expression became stricken.

"I bashed her front teeth so hard that I knocked a chip off of one. And it were more than that! She said when I cuddled her, it was like being groped by a monkey! And that I didn't know — didn't know how to —" His face began to crumple.

"Stupid bint didn't know how lucky she was," Ray said dismissively. Chris looked down, not meeting his friend's eyes.

"She's not the first to say how useless I am," he muttered. "How I know nowt about snogging, much less the... Finer Arts of Love."

Ray looked thoughtfully at Chris and said nothing.

"But," Chris added, "How can I learn when I never get any practice? I've known hardly any birds, and I've never got further than upstairs inside. What am I supposed to do? How do people _learn_ these things?"

He snuffled into his whisky. Ray punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"That's all you need? A bit of practice? Well, son, you're in luck. You're speaking to none other than Manchester's own answer to Casanova. And what you need is a proper kissing lesson... by a qualified instructor."

Chris's eyes grew huge. Ray promptly spat out a small gummy mass, then held it up.

"For starters, you get your mouth nice and clean-tasting. Birds like a bloke with sweet breath. Why do you think I'm always chewing gum? 'Be Prepared', eh?"

Ray carefully pressed the gum to the underside of his desk for later retrieval, then pointed to the mistletoe hanging in the door of Gene's office.

"Now, then. Let's see you in action."

They both wobbled over to the doorway and braced themselves against it. Chris looked up dizzily at the mistletoe, then at Ray. Then he suddenly lunged at Ray's face, forced the older man's mouth open and thrust his tongue past his teeth. Ray pulled back after a moment, roaring with laughter.

"Dear oh dear. That's not kissing, Christopher, that's a terrier going after a badger. And you nearly gave me a bloody nose with that great beak of yours."

Chris looked crestfallen, and Ray felt a twinge of compunction. He leaned slowly toward Chris, angling his own head to the right. "You see? Move in nice and slow. And tilt your head for God's sake, no need to bump noses, you're not snogging an Eskimo." He tapped the younger man's lips briskly. "And kissing's just like groping; upstairs outside _before_ upstairs inside. Remember, there's no hurry; the lass's tongue ain't going anywhere."

To illustrate, he pressed his lips softly against Chris's, closing his eyes and concentrating on the sensation of the man's mouth on his. Then Chris pulled away, giggling.

"What?"

"Your moustache tickles!"

Ray looked at him in exasperation. "Bints don't have moustaches, do they?" When Chris shook his head no, Ray snorted. "Not an issue then, is it?

"Like I was saying. Kiss her mouth on the outside first. Soft but firm. Works better if you close your eyes. And do a bit of soft nibbling, like you're a horse picking up a sugar cube with his lips."

He demonstrated. Chris was still giggling, but he subsided as Ray cradled the DC's face with one hand and explored Chris's lips with his own. After a moment, Chris tentatively nibbled back.

"Aye, that's better," Ray said approvingly. "And you've got nice smooth lips, just like a girl's, they'll love that. Now then. You can do this for a good long while if you like, even move around the face like you're searching for evidence, then come back to the mouth.

"And at last, my lad, we come to the tongue." Ray opened his own mouth and pointed.

"See? That's what you start with, the tip, not the whole bloody thing. You wouldn't eat a sausage in a single bite..."

Ray ignored Chris's answering blush and moved forward again, teasing Chris's lips with the tip of his tongue and then pulling away. "And see, tongue's staying on the outside. Now you try."

Chris emulated him as best he could, and after a moment Ray slapped him approvingly on the back. "Right! And if she opens her gob and starts up with _her_ tongue, then you're in like Flint. Otherwise, just flick the tip of your tongue inside, cautious-like."

For a moment Ray thought that Chris was turning a deeper shade of pink, but on consideration he thought it had more to do with the fairy lights strung over the doorway.

"And if she likes it, then you can put it in a bit more, but gently, and no slobbering. Understand? Do a spot of licking, like this..."

Ray demonstrated some more.

"And maybe a wee bit of sucking..."

Ray felt Chris's hands moving through his hair. The clumsy lad seemed to be getting his fingers caught in Ray's wavy locks, yet it wasn't an altogether unpleasant feeling. Ray obligingly ran his own fingers through Chris's floppy hair, enjoying its silkiness.

Suddenly he was finding it challenging to put together words for the next instalment. Still, he'd promised Chris a full tutorial.

"And then your tongues can move against each other, but it's not a duel, so don't think you've got to fight to the death, you're not flipping Errol Flynn. _Think gentle._ And for the love of God try not to gag her. Oh, and she's got a roof to her mouth if she's normal, so slip her a tickle up there and see if she likes it. Let me show you..."

Chris moaned faintly and pressed even closer. Ray could feel the DC's heart rapidly beating against his chest, a living thing. His own heart was racing faster than it had for years.

"Oi! Keep breathing. Through your _nose_ , Chris lad. That's what it's meant for, it's not supposed to be used as a blunt instrument.

"And don't forget you've got two hands as well as a mouth. Think of it as attacking on both fronts. Useful things, hands are. You can move 'em about and make things interesting in all sorts of ways..."

Chris's hands were certainly doing some very interesting things to Ray's buttocks.

"Bloody hell, you're a fast learner..."

Chris was now rubbing up against him with an enthusiasm Ray had never felt from Wilma. And there was suddenly something hard between them — _two_ hard somethings — and Ray realised that this was promising to be even more satisfying than the night Wilma folded her very first octopus. Then he remembered the Scotch and was unexpectedly seized by a spasm of doubt. He pulled out of Chris's embrace with some difficulty. The lad stared at him.

"Ray?" he panted. "What's wrong?"

The older man felt the heat rising in his cheeks. "You wanted a kissing lesson. You've had it."

Chris cocked his head, evidently thinking. Ray thought he saw a flash of desire in those guileless blue eyes. Then the moment passed and then all he could see was Chris, a gawky boy looking bewildered and awkward, his confidence vanished.

"You mean no more kissing?" Chris said. He sounded both disappointed and breathless. Ray nodded.

"But," Chris added, "Don't you want to hear what happened when I tried to go downstairs outside?"

He curled one hand around Ray's waist. Ray swallowed.

"It were bloody humiliating." Chris said earnestly. "And who else can I ask about it, except you? My own sergeant and best friend? So I was hoping you could help me with... you know. Downstairs. Outside."

He moved his other hand to the back of Ray's neck. The detective sergeant shuddered as curved fingers stroked his nape.

"And downstairs inside?" Ray asked, hardly daring to hope.

Chris pointed to the garland over their heads. "It's the Christmas rule, isn't it? You have to kiss under the mistletoe? Well, I reckon Casanova would never say that kissing stops at the face." He grinned. "And you did promise me a proper kissing lesson."

He drew Ray into a surprisingly assured snog, then paused for breath.

"But an improper one? Will do just fine."

And as Chris reached down to cup his friend's crotch, Ray decided that he might just look into visiting a florist and bringing home all the mistletoe his arms could hold.  



End file.
